Kinks
by leoandsnake
Summary: Maverick and Iceman want to change up their sex life... sort of. M for kinky, graphic gay sex.


"Maverick, how exactly do you want this to work?"

Iceman was kneeling on Maverick's bed, holding a pair of soft leather handcuffs.

"Well, fuck, I don't know," Maverick said, rolling onto his back on the bed and squinting up at Iceman, whose blonde hair looked like a halo under the sharp glow of the ceiling lights. "You tie me to something."

"You want to be tied to something?" Iceman said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, or we could do something else," Maverick said, gesturing at the plastic bag from the adult store he had visited that afternoon that was sitting on his desk. "Got any fantasies, Kazansky?"

Iceman opened his mouth and closed it. "No," he answered, too quickly to be telling the truth. He placed his hand on Maverick's thigh and rubbed it gently.

"Or you could spank me, or something," Maverick offered, sitting up and grinning at Iceman.

Ice got that funny look on his face that he did whenever Maverick's ass was brought into conversation. "Got a whip?"

"I was _kidding_."

"So was I, Mitchell. Sort of." Iceman slid off the bed and slunk over to the desk, rifling through the bag. He left out a half-laugh. "What _is_ all this shit?"

"Like you've never had kinky sex before, Kazansky?" Maverick challenged.

"Yeah, sure, but... you really outdid yourself," Iceman said.

Maverick fiddled with the duvet.

Iceman spat his gum out into a napkin and dropped it in the wastebasket. He pulled his clingy black t-shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor, then slid his pants off.

In response, Maverick pulled off his own shirt and faded blue jeans.

"Open a window, would you?" he said to Iceman, who looked rather bemused by this.

"You want the whole neighborhood to hear you?"

"It's hot in here, Tom."

Iceman grinned at him, wolfish and toothy. "That's the point." He ran a hand through his frosted tips and climbed onto the bed. "You just want me to tie you to the headboard?" he said vaguely, fiddling with the clasp of the handcuffs.

"Yeah," Maverick said.

"Pretty tame." Iceman seemed about to add something else, then stopped himself.

"I don't know, man, where I come from," Maverick sighed, leaning back on the bed, "sex is just you, a chick, and Barry White."

Iceman let out a little chuckle and looked up him, twirling the handcuffs around one finger. "Lie back farther."

Maverick obliged.

"What about the feather thing?"

"What about it?"

"You want me to use it on you?" Iceman said as he slid the handcuffs onto Maverick's wrist.

_Click._

A little thrill went through Maverick's stomach. "Not really."

"Why'd you buy it?"

_Click._

"Safe word is, uh," Iceman said. "What's the safe word?"

"The what?"

"In case I'm hurting you."

Maverick thought about it for a moment. "Dangerous."

"Sounds good to me," Iceman said, allowing himself the tiniest of smiles. "Where'd you put the lube?"

"Top drawer."

"What do you want me to do?" Iceman said as he pumped KY into his hand.

"Fuck, man, I don't know," Maverick said, rolling over as best as he could and looking at Iceman. "What you usually do."

"Defeats the purpose of kinky sex," Iceman murmured, climbing back onto the bed and sliding his hand down Maverick's boxers. He crooked one finger inside Maverick, and then the other.

Maverick let out a small moan. That pleasantly familiar tingling sensation in his ribs began to work down toward the pit of his stomach.

"I bought," Maverick muttered, "chocolate whipped... whatever the hell. You lick it off?"

"Plain whipped cream is better," Iceman said dismissively. "If you've got any. That isn't really that kinky, Mitchell. You've been playing for the wrong team too long."

The third finger started its ascent.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," Maverick moaned into his pillow.

"You're _tight_ tonight," Iceman said, with a weirdly vicious quality to his voice, like he wanted to ravish Maverick right then and there.

"Come on, Ice," Maverick said, rolling onto his back and shaking his hands so the handcuffs rattled against the slats of the headboard.

"Slider thought you were a top," Iceman said, as he slid nimbly off the bed and grabbed the bag, pulling out the chocolate sauce. "First time he met you." He laughed. "I was like, Slider, he's five foot four --"

"_Seven_!"

"-- with a seriously nice ass," Iceman declared, "there's no way he's a top. There's no way anyone would _let_ him top."

"Same to you, fag," Maverick snapped, kicking at Iceman, who deftly avoided his feet as he pounced back onto the bed.

"Shh, Mitchell," Iceman said.

Maverick sighed and tilted his head back. There was an odd sensation on his stomach and he looked over to see Iceman spraying chocolate whipped cream on his abs.

"What are you doing?"

"Will you shut up?" Iceman demanded. "Christ, _Maverick_, I'm sort of trying to concentrate, here."

"You going to lick it off?"

"No, I thought I'd leave it there," Iceman replied, deadpan. "Relax, I've done this before."

"You really don't seem the kinky sex type," Maverick said, watching as Ice capped the spray nozzle and tossed it to the side. "Up-front, anyway, oh god _yes_ --"

Ice trailed his tongue up Maverick's abs and between his pecs, then to his neck, where a liberal amount of whipped cream had been sprayed. He nicked Maverick's ear with his teeth and Maverick rocked up on the bed, his back arching above the covers.

"Germans," Iceman panted, his hand sliding between Maverick and the covers and grabbing his boxers, "are often uptight in life and freaks in the bedroom, according to _Time_ magazine."

"You're German?" Maverick muttered as his boxers were slid off and flung to the side so that he was stark naked on the bed.

"German-Polish," Iceman said briskly.

"Less talking, more licking," Maverick said, taking a deep breath. His toned chest rose and fell.

Iceman surveyed him hungrily.

Maverick closed his eyes as he felt Iceman's erection brush against his ass. He had worked out a bizarre scenario in his head in which he was Penny Benjamin, and Iceman was him, which you'd think would sort of defeat the purpose of the whole getting-fucked-by-a-guy, but it turned him on like _crazy_.

He heard Iceman's boxers land on the floor beside the bed. Iceman began to advance on him, pulling on his tensed body so that his wrists chafed gently against the handcuffs. Iceman's mouth was hot on his neck again, and he was gently thrusting against Maverick. He gently lifted Maverick's legs into the air so that he was straddling Ice's neck, then rolled Maverick slightly higher, palms on either side of his ribcage.

He began to enter Maverick slowly, and pawed at Maverick's chest, massaging his pecs.

"Harder, Christ," Maverick hissed, stretching upward so his head brushed the headboard.

Iceman forcefully shoved Maverick's legs higher in the air until the angle was bordering on painful as Ice went deeper into him, jerking on Maverick and fisting his hands in the bedcovers.

"_Fuck_!" Maverick cried out, thrusting back against Ice, his forehead slick with sweat and the handcuffs cutting into his skin. It felt horrible and amazing; he couldn't _do_ anything, couldn't even stop Ice if he wanted to --

He felt like he was being torn apart, ripped wide open as Ice went harder and faster, his hands pressing into Maverick's flesh.

"_Tom_ --"

He was coming too, maybe even before Iceman, and panic stirred across Maverick's chest. He didn't want this sensation to stop, now or ever.

"_God_!" Maverick exhaled as he came, against Ice, who was still buried deep inside him.

It felt like the Fourth of July when Ice came inside him, the world crackling and spinning, pain blurring and bleeding into pleasure.

"Yes," Maverick muttered, leaning back and breathing heavily, his legs falling to the bed with a rough thump.

"Holy shit," Iceman panted as he reached up, a tiny silver key in his hand, to undo the handcuffs.

Maverick was free in seconds, and he sat up, rubbing his raw wrists.

He just looked at Iceman for a moment as he sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the leather and metal, making annoying tinkling noises.

Maverick dwelled momentarily on what to say, or what not to say, but wound up just laying back on the bed and looking up at the ceiling.

"Wasn't that kinky, was it?"

"No, pretty damn tame," Ice replied, flopping next to Maverick and lifting his eyebrows.

"I had fun," Maverick declared.

Ice rolled over on his stomach and Maverick gave him a half-hearted slap to the shoulder.

Whatever they didn't say was obvious anyway.


End file.
